


Between Us Two

by aglassfullofhappiness (mehmehs)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, I really just wanted immortal husbands with babies but then realities brought angst, Introspection, Kidfic, M/M, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehmehs/pseuds/aglassfullofhappiness
Summary: “This isn’t what it looks like,” Nicky says.“Okay, sure,” Joe says, looking like he’s ready to bang his head against the wall. “Because it looks like you just kidnapped our neighbour’s babies, Nicolò.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 232
Kudos: 1363





	Between Us Two

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down to write about Joe and Nicky being dads to Nile while she found her footing, but then I thought about Joe and Nicky with babies and how they might have thought about that whole ~thing at some point and got…horribly sidetracked. Enjoy 😊 
> 
> Huge shoutout to [Yon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlouais/pseuds/chlouais) for the A+ beta and cheerleading. I’m sorry I did this to you.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Nicky says.

“Okay, sure,” Joe says, looking like he’s ready to bang his head against the wall. “Because it _looks_ like you just kidnapped our neighbour’s babies, Nicolò.”

~ * ~

The truth is – Joe and Nicky love people. It’s a cliché, but maybe a key part of retaining their sanity, doing what they do. Of course, there are monsters everywhere; they actively seek them out, for God’s sake. But everywhere they go, in every time period, they also find lovely, normal human beings. Some work alongside them, performing heroics mortals should be afraid to do, which Joe and Nicky remember by recounting to each other, and to Andy when she will listen. But even in the day to day, in the mundane – they love it. In times of peace and quiet, where they would settle down for a couple years, maybe more, they’d revel at the community they could put down roots in, no matter how shallow. Waving to a neighbour they recognised. Getting free scoops of ice cream from the shop owner they’d helped move stock for. Giving tourists directions, and a couple of detailed stories to boot. 

Joe would make friends with every market vendor and passerby if he could, no matter how fleeting the encounter. Whenever he was able to smile, to chat – few could resist him, in Nicky’s opinion. Sometimes he had to remind Joe to tone it down a little, lest they attract too much attention.

It always hurt Nicky when he had to do that. It felt like trying to dim a light that should shine as bright as the sun; it felt like hiding its warmth from people who would flourish from it. Sometimes he would look across at Joe, hiding or moving unseen, and he thinks, _what a waste_. In those moments he feels, viscerally, what their lifetimes have taken from Joe, from them.

While Joe ultimately loves entertaining a crowd, Nicky prefers a smaller audience. Some of his fondest memories are when Joe would be talking to someone’s parents, and he would crouch down to the kid’s eye line and solemnly extend his hand. No matter the era or the war, some of his clearest memories are of the children. Nicky knows Copley has photos of him, dressed as a medic, so preoccupied with the children in front of him he had not noticed the camera to his right. That was a role he had taken and updated as medicine had evolved; the role that perhaps took the most from him, but the one he insisted upon whenever he could.

But aside from particular missions or times of war, where no child should be, anyway, but always was – they do not have much opportunity to well, get to know one. Even with the ones they did spend time with, nurture, raise a little – it was worse to let them get too attached. It never helped to follow up on them for too long. And so, out of sight, out of mind, as they say. Never did to dwell. 

~ * ~

But there’s this one time, in one of their quiet stretches, when they decide to go down to Australia. The team needs a break, and they want somewhere warm and far away, without also being in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, with no easy access to takeout food and air conditioning.

“This century’s made you soft,” Andy had said, snorting. Joe had looked pointedly at the TV remote in her right hand and the can of Coke in her left, to which she’d rolled her eyes and acquiesced.

And so off they go. They visit countless beaches, where Nicky burns and becomes very pale again, much to his chagrin and Joe’s amusement.

“It’s not fair,” Nicky says, flopping down next to Joe on his beach towel. “I swear you’re getting tanner.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Joe said, sipping on his incredibly multi-coloured mocktail. “I couldn’t hear you over how blindingly pasty you are –”

They visit historical sites, museums, all that. It’s nice to be somewhere where there aren’t centuries of memories around every corner; where they aren’t constantly jarred by going somewhere, only to discover it has changed dramatically since their last visit. Most of all, they want to stop moving for a while. Get an innocuous little apartment, maybe even decorate a little. Booker calls it ‘going domestic’. He isn’t half wrong.

They are a month into their nice little one-bedroom; nothing fancy, but cosy. It had been a logistical nightmare to set up, but it was worth it to have a proper bed, alone together, in a housing structure made this decade. Joe is obstinately googling what indoor plants he can get while Nicky reminds him of the last plants he’d killed, when an unholy amount of screaming starts up in the hallway outside.

“Ooh,” Nicky says, checking their camera feeds. “It’s the twins.”

“Mmhm,” Joe says, eyeing him carefully. Nicky has always been very attuned to crying children. It’s like a personal alarm system, which has been both a pro and con during their work. In their downtime, however, it makes him a bit of a snoop.

“Oh, Gabby looks like she could do with some help,” Nicky says, and turns his wide eyes from the screen to Joe. “Doesn’t she?”

Joe sighs. Gabby is their neighbour, and a good one at that. She’s friendly in the hallway when they pass, but otherwise keeps to herself. Certainly too busy to pay them much attention. Doesn’t have many visitors.

Nicky, of course, is concerned about this.

“Where’s her partner?” he had asked, two weeks in, as they heard her struggle to get her twin stroller through the door while taking a work call. “Where’s her family?”

Joe had given him A Look and Nicky had given him A Look back. They could both hear Andy’s voice in their minds, scoffing at them, a warning tone. Then Joe had shrugged and waved a hand. Nicky’s face had turned very thoughtful.

Over the next few weeks, Nicky would ‘occasionally’ bump into the woman next door. Not too much, but it would happen to be when she was struggling with too many shopping bags, or the children were acting up in the hallway.

The first time Gabby had introduced herself and her twin girls, Joe had spent an entire evening listening to Nicky talk about that five minute encounter.

“They had matching costumes, Joe,” Nicky had said, googling away. “Oh, they’re called onesies. Onesies, Joe!”

And now here they were. Nicky with an in; Joe without an out.

Nicky makes a triumphant noise and goes to open their door. Joe, inevitably, is already behind him.

Outside, their neighbour is cursing at the grocery bag that has just given up on her. Cans and apples are rolling down the hallway, while her babies cry bloody murder from the stroller next to her.

At the sound of the door, Gabby looks up, and her eyes widen. Joe changes his stance. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says, trying to juggle her other bags to reach her purse. “We nearly made it home without a meltdown, just let me find my keys and I’ll quieten them down –”

“It’s okay,” Nicky says, hands half raised. “Would you like some help?”

“I –” Gabby starts, looking uncertain, and then her second grocery bag tears and she sags. “Yes, please.”

Nicky goes to collect the escaping cans. Joe is about to help the woman get her door when the babies both focus on him. The one on the right pauses mid-scream, face un-scrunching, and then says, “Da? Da??” which sets the other one off, and then they’re both yelling at Joe, tiny arms stretching out from the pram. Joe’s been less surprised in an ambush, and he looks at Nicky, who mirrors his expression.

Gabby turns red.

“I’m sorry,” she says to Joe. “You – you look a bit like their dad. They’ve been doing this to everyone who looks familiar.”

Behind him, Joe hears Nicky laugh, the bastard.

“May I –” Joe starts, gesturing to the children as Gabby opens her door.

“Oh, um, be careful,” she says, “they really just want out of the pram, I think, they’ve had enough…”

Joe reaches out a hand, tentative, and miraculously, the crying quietens a little. The babies are still gurgling away, arms waving against their restraints. He unbuckles the one on the right, who immediately grabs at him, so he scoops her up before freeing the next one. This bit, he can do. The woman is picking up her stray groceries and taking them inside, keeping a careful eye on Joe as she does so. Nicky pauses on the threshold, his arms full, and she props the door open for him with a quiet thank you. She has a conflicted expression on her face that’s very familiar. Doubtful, a little scared, but also desperately wanting some help without wanting to ask for it.

Joe follows Nicky at her gesture, turning carefully to fit through the door. The babies have gone very quiet now, staring at him with identical wide eyes. Joe stops in the living area he’s walked into, unsure where to put them, and at this pause, one of the babies reaches out and grabs onto his beard, while the other decides to go for his hair.

“Oh, no –” Joe says, but he’s caught in the middle, arms full of babies, head twisting to one side as baby-on-the-left lets out an honest-to-God giggle and pulls harder, and baby-on-the-right copies by pulling in the opposite direction.

“Oh my God, let me get them,” Gabby says, but Nicky holds out a hand, grinning.

“Let’s put the groceries away first,” he says, as Joe glares at him. “It looks like this is keeping them happy, yes? Less hassle this way.”

“Er, I’m not sure…” Gabby says, but Joe jiggles one hand in an approximate wave, making that baby laugh harder.

“It’s fine, go ahead,” he says. “Even if it’s Nicky being sadistic, you go ahead. I’ve got these two.”

“Oh, yes,” Nicky says, smirking. “You look like you’ve got it perfectly under control.”

“I mean, you _could_ help me,” Joe grumbles, dislodging one tiny fist only to have it latch onto somewhere else.

“But I’m so busy here,” Nicky says, holding up two cans of baked beans. “I couldn’t possibly.”

Joe’s eye-roll is cut off by both babies deciding they’ve had enough of his hair and want down, _now_. Two chubby fists whack Joe in each eye, and that’s – that’s how it begins.

~ * ~

Gabby is a software engineer, an avid knitter, and mother to twin girls: Farah and Phoebe.

“When we found out we were having twins,” she says, placing chips and dip between them all, “Sabeeh and I decided we each got to name one. Made it a lot easier.”

“They’re both lovely,” Joe says, smiling, surprising himself at his own sincerity, considering Phoebe was developing a habit of chewing his collars, and Farah wanted to play-fight his face constantly. 

They ask about her, to keep the conversation away from them, and learn that her husband is with the Australian Defence Force, as part of the Navy. They share a wry look at that. Even on holiday, it pops up one way or another.

“He wanted to be around until the girls turned two,” Gabby says, her fingers interlocking on the table. “But you know, the job’s the job.” She laughs, slightly sharp, and Nicky leans in a little.

“Do you have family close by?” he asks, and feels Joe’s foot rest lightly on his under the table.

“Oh, um,” Gabby says, hands twisting. “Not so much. We actually moved states to be closer to base, so I’m pretty new out here.” She glances quickly at Joe, and then adds, “Our families weren’t too keen on us, you know…” she pauses, like more words are caught in her throat. “So uh, just figuring things out. As I go.”

Joe doesn’t need to look at Nicky to know where this will be going.

“Just need to be careful,” Joe says, trying to sound firm, back in their own space.

“Only if she wants it,” Nicky agrees from behind his laptop.

Joe pauses.

“Nicolò,” he says, “are you doing what I think you’re doing? After we just agreed to be relaxed about this?”

“Nope,” Nicky says, hitting print on the research article he’d been skimming the abstract of. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

~ * ~

They try to be smart about it. They really do. They’re used to keeping to themselves, even if they don’t prefer it, and it does make things easier, in the end. But they’re predicting to be here for several months, maybe longer. Surely…

“This is part of our jobs,” Nicky says, aggressively mashing bananas. “We’re helping.”

Joe gives him an indulgent smile over the kitchen island. Nicky is in the middle of ‘accidentally’ over-baking. It’s been several weeks of ‘accidental extra food’ at this point, and while Gabby has no doubt caught on, she always seems happy to see them. She’d warmed up to them considerably after they told her Nicky was an early childhood educator, currently pursuing further study, and Joe an art teacher. It gave Nicky an excuse to do a crash course in ECE, and learn far too much about child psychology. This backfired on him when he found himself worrying at 0300 about how anything and everything he did might have some lasting impact on the girls, until Joe had tried to smother him with a pillow. Cooking though – cooking he could do. And considering how rarely he gets to cook for anyone else these days, it’s an opportunity he takes very seriously. 

They’ve seen Gabby feed, burp, change and put both girls down to nap with a military efficiency, often while on call or chatting to them. She is constantly moving, something to do in every spare minute, and sleeps in shifts to keep the twins on the same schedule.

It’s an oddly familiar routine to witness, the relentlessness of it; it’s also familiar to see how it runs Gabby down without her noticing.

So Nicky cooks for her, as casually as he can, and helps put away toys and clear the kitchen when Joe has her distracted, and when she thanks them he just smiles. Compared to mothers they have helped before, this is a comparative walk in the park. And yet…

“What is it?” Joe asks him one night, when Nicky has been fidgeting in bed for the past two hours.

“Gabby…” he starts, and Joe exhales, running a hand down his arm. “It’s not right.”

“Which part?” Joe asks, patient in the darkness, and Nicky sits up at the edge of the bed, arms braced against his knees.

“Her family should _be here_ ,” he says, and it comes out harsher than expected. “They’re only a phone call, a plane ride away. But neither side will come, when they could – _should_ be here. Sabeeh, I understand. How many husbands have we seen, who have had to leave their families to work. But those little girls, their grandparents…” he stops, inhaling. He feels Joe’s palm against his back. “It’s so stupid. They’re so silly. They’re missing out on such – when they don’t need to.”

“I know,” Joe says, soothing, but Nicky knows Joe can feel the anger under his skin, knows that Joe feels the same way. They don’t broach the subject too much with Gabby, who still seems hesitant to talk about it in front of Joe. Nicky wants to sit her down, tell her about their own impossible story, to help make light of hers, to tell her she is doing _amazingly_ but shouldn’t _have to_ all on her own…

“She deserves a team,” Nicky says, unable to find the right words but knowing Joe would understand him. “A family.”

~ * ~

Gabby shows them photos of Sabeeh, and he does, in fact, look a little bit like Joe.

“A good choice,” Joe says solemnly. “Very handsome.”

Nicky snorts, and Joe kicks him under the table. Nicky can’t retaliate because Farah is currently clinging to his lap, intent on standing.

It’s not that Joe has never thought about it – he’s just never thought about it for too long. He supposed, way back when, he always assumed he would be married, have children, raise them. But that assumption was washed away by the war, by time, by his many lives with Nicolò. They knew theirs was never a life for children, for family other than each other, long before Booker came along and proved it to them. Often, Joe was painfully glad neither he nor Nicolò were women. The things they had seen, century from century, were…well.

He wondered how Nicolò would have reacted, in Booker’s situation. Nicolò was such an open heart around children. He loved them even in their messy, silly, screaming states, something Andy could never understand and Joe would have to pull him away from. Joe knew that Andy put very particular thought into missions involving children, when Nicolò was involved. Given a choice, he would never give up on them, and that was – and had been, many times – dangerous. So no, Joe had never dwelled on himself, Nicolò and children in any solid way aside from during work. He found joy in them, in their spirit, their futures. He loved seeing Nicolò with them and how they made him smile. 

But here, in Gabby’s tiny apartment, as he’s carrying Phoebe to bed – he pauses in front of the mirror by the front door. Phoebe’s already snoozing against his chest. The hair on her head is the same colour as his beard, curling and wild. Her skin, softer than anything he’s ever felt, is slightly lighter than his, and he stares at her tiny, tiny hand, next to his own.

He supposes this is what a child might look like, if someone mixed his and Nicky’s DNA together. Who knew what scientists were up to these days. Maybe his hair, Nicky’s eyes, a mix of the noses. It was such a strange thought he was still standing there, transfixed, when Nicky came out of the girls’ room, looking smug.

“I beat you with Farah,” he says, and then notices Joe’s expression. “What is it?”

“She looks like us,” Joe says simply, and watches Nicky’s face cycle through several emotions in quick succession, before landing on one he has never seen before, so full and to the brim that it ingrains in Joe’s memory; a singular, silent bookmark of how they feel, and what they will never have.

~ * ~

It’s hilarious, at the start, to see Joe’s hesitation around the kids. Put that man in a warzone and he could handle children no problem, thank you; an expert at carrying, cuddling and getting them to be quiet when they had to. But take away the immediate danger and doubt starts creeping in, especially when they cry without apparent reason, and cannot be soothed.

Every time they go away together, there’s a dance around what rules they can bend, to really enjoy their holiday. It’s the smallest things, really. So when Nicky makes friends with Gabby, in the loosest sense of the word, it’s such a joy that he pushes it. He can sense Joe’s uneasiness, but he also feels Joe’s earning to give him what he wants. Besides. They were keeping it casual. ‘Chill’, he kept hearing people say. They were occasional visitors to a neighbour who did not ask too many questions and simply needed a hand, as most people with small children do.

It still angers and saddens him in waves, Gabby’s evident loneliness in motherhood, her constant struggle to be a perfect mother who also works full-time. Nicky remembers families, torn apart and desperate to find each other again, generations of grandparents fighting to send their children off so their children’s children would have a better chance, and he seethes. But Farah and Phoebe’s grandparents are out of his control. So instead, he consumes as much updated childcare knowledge as he can, and he cooks. Often, Gabby seems happy just to have another adult to chat to, and Nicky is more than happy to listen. It reminds him of the infinite worlds happening around him, the breadth of each mortal’s life despite it being a speck in time.

One weekend, though, while they watch Joe chase the girls around the living room, Gabby says suddenly,

“You’re both trained, aren’t you?”

She’s not looking at Nicky when she says it, and it’s so offhand he almost thinks he’s imagined it.

“I’m sorry?” he says, after a pause, and she look at him then, smiling slightly.

“I can see it in the way you move,” she says, and then puts her hand over his when he opens his mouth. “It’s okay,” she says. “I get it. Sabeeh can’t tell me things sometimes either.” She pulls back then, still smiling. “You’re both great with the girls.”

Nicky relays this to Joe later, who sighs and considers it.

“It’s a cautionary tale,” he says. “Even if she just thinks we’re Intelligence or DoD.”

“Right,” Nicky says, before pausing expectantly. “But we can keep going, yes?”

Joe sighs again, dramatically, and Nicky kisses him on the cheek. “Brilliant.”

The weekend after, Joe is out getting groceries when there’s a rapid knocking at the door.

“I’m sorry,” Gabby says, “this is really shitty of me, but I’ve been called on-site for an emergency and I was just about to take the girls out to the park, they’re getting really fidgety indoors –”

Farah waves at him from her mother’s arms and makes the “Nn” noise she’s starting to associate with Nicky, which melts him every single time.

“Okay,” he says, “tell me what you need.”

Ten minutes later, Joe arrives home, and stops short.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Nicky says.

“Okay, sure,” Joe says, looking like he’s ready to bang his head against the wall. “Because it _looks_ like you just kidnapped our neighbour’s babies, Nicolò.”

Nicky rolls his eyes as he finishes buckling Pheobe into the stroller next to her sister.

“Gabby had to go on-site and the girls were ready to go out,” he says. “Do you want to join?”

“I just got home,” Joe says, but by the time the girls are ready to go and Nicky’s pulling his shoes on, Joe is already by the door, impatient.

“ _I just got home,_ ” Nicky quotes back at him, mocking, and Joe whacks his shoulder. Inside the pram, Farah tries to do the same to Phoebe. “Joe!” Nicky says, hands on hips. “You’re setting a bad example for the girls.”

“Kill me,” Joe says, and they head out.

It’s an idyllic day; one where Nicky feels the whole world was on pause. They find a shaded spot in the park around the corner and set up camp, laying out the blanket Gabby had given them. Luckily, the girls aren’t able to run far at all yet, and seemed content to toddle around them and occasionally demand to be picked up. Farah climbs over Joe and says “buh,” to which Joe pulls a colourful book out of Gabby’s bag and opens it for her. Nicky eyes it as Joe begins to read.

“Did you buy that book, Yusuf?” he asks, when Joe turns a page.

“Shh,” Joe says, which means _yes_. “Early exposure to vocabulary is very important, Nicolò. I read that in one of your hundred parenting articles.”

“Touché,” Nicky says, and stops Phoebe from putting grass in her mouth.

They’re only there for a short time, really, since the girls can’t be out for too long. But years later, when Nicky thinks back on it, it will feel like hours. He will remember the sun, dappling against Joe’s face as he carefully puts hats on the girls. He will remember the breeze, sending leaves down for the girls to grab. Phoebe’s laugh as he swings her up into the air, the feeling of her, impossibly small between his hands. He looks across and finds Joe down for the count, unable to move due to a sleepy Farah on his chest.

Joe is singing to her, so softly that Nicky can’t make out the words.

“What lullaby is that?” he asks quietly, and Joe looks at him, hand stilling on Farah’s back.

“I’m not sure,” he says, finally. “I didn’t realise I knew it, to be honest.”

There’s another long pause as they take each other in, what they must look like together, right now. Nicky reaches out and cups Joe’s face in his hand, who turns and kisses his palm. 

“I think my mother sang it to me,” Joe says, and for a long time, neither of them can speak.

~ * ~

But then, inevitably, they get called.

Usually, when it comes, it’s a little disappointing, but they’re ready to move on. Always happy to see the team again. This time, however, it feels like being dumped into the Arctic again. By the time Joe has put down the phone, Nicky has moved away from him, hands braced against their window. The apartment suddenly feels foreign and stifling, like his ears are muffled.

“Nicolò…” he says, very gently, and Nicky exhales, still not looking at him.

“We have to tell Gabby,” he says, and his voice is somehow steady. “We have to say goodbye.”

This is not part of the plan. They should really have no one to say goodbye to, not like this.

When Gabby opens her door, her smiles fades at their expressions.

“What is it?” she asks, and she seems to have such an acute sense of what is happening that Joe loses his words for a moment.

“We have to leave on short notice,” Nicky says, still steady. “My sister has fallen ill and we have to go.”

Gabby hand goes to her heart and she says “oh, oh I’m so sorry, of course,” as she ushers them in. “When do you leave?”

“In a day or two,” Nicky says, and Gabby’s face freezes in shock, before she quickly covers it.

“And…when will you be back?” she asks, faux-casual, and Nicky’s face twists before he smooths it out again.

“I’m not sure right now,” he says. “It really depends on my sister’s situation.”

“Oh, of course,” Gabby says, and she squeezes Nicky’s arm. “I’m so sorry.” She looks at Joe, who clears his throat and asks,

“Can we say goodbye to the girls?”

Farah and Phoebe are in their cots, fresh off their afternoon naps. They’re both fussing, and when they see Joe and Nicky, they let out twin babbles of “Juh” and “Nih”, which has taken them weeks to learn, and Joe wonders if he can trust himself to pick either one up.

They take the girls to the living room, and sit down opposite each other, setting the girls between them on their play matt. It feels so routine that Joe is reflexively offering Phoebe her favourite toy before he looks at Nicky and stops. Nicky is staring, transfixed, at Farah, as she takes two steps toward him, unsteady.

“Nicolò,” he starts, but then Phoebe whacks him with her rattle, trying to offer it to him. “Thank you, Phoebe,” he says, and Phoebe nods her little head, giving him another toy. Gabby laughs from behind them, and then sniffs. Joe feels his own throat close up as Phoebe abandons the toy-sharing idea and instead stretches out her arms, as she had when they’d first met.

“She’s getting too big for that,” Gabby says, trying to laugh again, but Joe picks her up anyway and bounces her into the air.

When Phoebe laughs, Joe feels tears at the corners of his eyes, unbidden. He lowers Phoebe, blinking, and the tears escape, trickling into his beard. 

“Juh,” Phoebe says, nose scrunching. “Juh?”

“I’m going to miss you,” Joe whispers, as if that will help. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

He looks across at Nicky then, and sees him still frozen, dry-eyed, just holding Farah in both arms. She’s already taller than when they’d first met her, but she still fit in his arms perfectly, hair tickling his chin. Nicky finally looks up, and they stare at each other. Usually, when they find themselves in this position, each clutching a child, the world always seems to be ending around them. This time does not feel much different.

~ * ~

Nicky is silent and still all the way onto the plane. But as they take off, he takes a deep, shuddering breath, and although his head is turned to the window, Joe knows exactly how he looks. He takes Nicky’s hand, and Nicky grasps back, crushingly tight.

“They loved us,” Joe says, and that is the last thing either of them say about it, for a very long time.

~ * ~

**Author's Note:**

> I had so many more thoughts on this but I had to end my own suffering sharpish. 
> 
> All feedback welcome :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Between Us Two (podfic version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995045) by [RecordedByMagpie (MagpieMorality)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/RecordedByMagpie)




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